It has always felt a little surreal growing older.

My memories of my childhood are a blur of endless summer days playing outside with the neighborhood kids, riding to grade school on my bike, going to Sunday School in my parents’ Chevrolet, staying all night at Grandma’s house, Christmases, birthdays, reading comic books, and listening to Monkees records.

Somewhere around 12 or 13 years of age I slowly became aware that, even though I still felt like a little kid inside, I was getting bigger on the outside. I was awkward and clumsy as I grew into my new size. To add to my embarrassment, pimples started breaking out on my face—especially on the tip of my nose—and my voice started to change, getting lower but unexpectedly squeaking up an octave at the worst moments—like whenever I tried to talk to a girl. At some point during that time, I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t a little kid anymore.

Teen years were exciting, confusing and scary. The delight of learning to play guitar; the surprise of finding new friends that liked the same things I did, and liked me; the overwhelming rush of starting high school, and all the teachers and counselors urging me to choose a major, choose a college and choose a career (when all I really wanted to do was get my locker open and find my first class). Talking (nervously) to that girl I liked; going on my first serious dates with her; my first part-time job—and the first time I looked at a W-2 tax form and realized all the money I’d spent on that girl and those dates! Then graduation rushed by, I said goodbye to high school, and plunged over my head into my first frustrating college semesters. It’s another story for another time, but during those confusing years, God got ahold of my heart again, and changed the direction of my life. I’m thankful, because if He hadn’t, I wonder if I’d even be alive today.

In the upheaval of that time, and the upheaval of my heart, when I turned back to Him, God gave me a new peace and a new purpose. He gave me back the love of the girl I’d dated in high school, who had shown such great wisdom by breaking up with me. It was a genuine heartbreak that God used to get my attention. Then, when I’d surrendered my life back to Him with no conditions, in an unexpected display of his grace, God brought that girl back into my life. And in less than two years Rae Anne became my wife.

Almost overnight we were 450 miles away from our families, on our own, in our first apartment in Springfield, Missouri, on the campus of the Baptist college where I began to prepare for the ministry. Classes, papers, and exams, coupled with part-time and full-time jobs, and the years sped by. Before I knew it, it was graduation time again, and we were ejected into life and our first hard ministry experiences.

Soon we brought home a baby boy from the hospital. I started talking about naming my son Joshua David when I was in high school. Two and a half years later, we brought home a baby girl: Amy Raeann, the first girl on my side of the family since my grandfather’s sister.

Then I turned 25, and I thought, “A quarter of a century! If it keeps going this fast, the day after tomorrow I’ll be 50!” And that’s about how it felt. Sometime in my early thirties I admitted, “Well, I guess there’s no denying it now: I’m an adult.” Up until then, I’d felt like a kid in an adult’s body.

It felt weird the first time they chose an actor to play Superman (Dean Cain) who was younger than me. Superman was supposed to be my Dad’s age! But, since I was my Dad’s age—or at least, the age my Dad was when I was little—I guess it made sense. And not to compare Superman and the Lord Jesus, but when I got to be older than 33 years, it felt very strange to be older than Jesus—or at least, older than He was in His earthly life when He was crucified.

Then our babies graduated from high school! Then they graduated from college. Our son went to graduate school, and travelled to Europe and the Middle East. Our daughter got married, and about a year later I was a grandfather. A grandfather! How did that happen? (Paul McCartney suggested “Granddude” instead of Granddad…I kind of like that.) Truthfully, I wouldn’t have missed being a grandfather for the world. Both of my grandsons bring delight and joy and laughter—lots of laughter—into my life. Besides, grandkids are the parent’s revenge. (Ha!)

But they started sending me the AARP magazine when I was 58! That ain’t right! And one of those magazines had Paul McCartney on the cover! He was a granddude! Then I turned 60. Then I turned 65, and got my Medicare card. Wow.

And now I’m lined up with the runway, and down there on the tarmac, in great big numbers, it says: 7 0. Seventy years old! As I write this, in twelve days, God willing, I will have my 70 th birthday. Are you kidding me? How did this happen?

It happened to me the same way it happens to everyone: fast. In the New Testament book of James, James wrote: “…yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

And in the Old Testament book of Psalms, Moses wrote, “…we bring our years to an end like a sigh.” (Psalm 90:9) The KJV renders that last phrase, “…we spend our years as a tale that is told,” but the last three words were supplied by the translators and are not in the Hebrew text. The Hebrew word for “sigh” or “tale” means “a sound, groan, murmur, moan, sigh”…or “tale.” To the ancients, something of great value was heavy, like gold. Something of little value was light and insubstantial, like a mist, or a breath, or a sigh. People sat around a fire at night and told stories. A tale told for entertainment had some value, but not much. It was just a way to pass an evening. And it was over too soon, like a breath, like a sigh. Like life.

Then Moses described a normal life span: “The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” (Psalm 90:10) Moses lived to be 120 years old, but he was describing the normal experience of the people he led through the wilderness. History tells us that, because of disease and poor nutrition, in ancient times the average life expectancy was often only 30 or 35 years. The Hebrews lived longer because God had instructed them as to certain foods to avoid and in the basic laws of sanitation and hygiene. (See Leviticus.)

But Moses wrote frankly about the inevitable struggle that accompanies aging. My Mom used to say, “I don’t mind getting’ older, ‘cept the parts wear out.” She also said, “Getting older isn’t for cowards.” The older I get, the more I understand what she meant. Getting older means making new friends, lots of them doctors. And it means gaining companions you don’t want, like Arthur—Arthur Itis. I don’t like him at all.

All this is the inevitable consequence of sin and the curse. (See Genesis 3:17-19) And this is part of what Jesus came to save us from, by His death, burial and resurrection. (Hebrews 2:9, 14-15)

Kenneth Boa co-wrote 20 Compelling Evidences That God Exists. He was facing a major surgery, and was honest enough to admit that it scared him. They wheeled him to the staging area where patients wait before being taken to the surgery room. Beside him was another man, also facing major surgery, also frightened. Boa told him, “I think the only thing for you and I to do in this situation is to hold on to Jesus.” That’s the finest advice you can get for facing surgery—or facing life. Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

In some ways, old age is a gift from God. Proverbs says, “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” (Proverbs 16:31). It also says, “The glory of young men is their strength, but the splendor of old men is their gray hair.” (Proverbs 20:29) And every year I seem to have less glory and more splendor!

Getting older ain’t all bad. George Martin, the Beatles’ producer, said, “If you’re lucky, you get to be old.” There are good things about getting older. Like grandkids. And I am getting such a kick out of being the old guy to all you younger couples and your precious children. You are all such an unexpected surprise, and a benediction on my life.

I used to read Psalm 90:9 and think, “If I make it to 70 years old, anything more than that will just be the icing on the cake.” That’s okay. The icing was always my favorite part anyway.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Pastor David